-(Heard over the phone) “I don’t care WHAT is in your pants or what you identify as, GET THE FUCKING PISS OFF THE TOILET SEAT”
– “I don’t get why some men like to call themselves straight and then say they’d never date a Trans woman because honestly if you’re willing to exclude an entire subsection of women based on something so stupid you’re probably not worth their time anyways”
-“I don’t know why some guys worry about gay men in the locker rooms because if I was a gay guy, even I wouldn’t date me. I’ve been wearing the same shirt for three days.“
-(Over spring break) “How the fuck do you make Kraft mac&cheese”
-“What do you mean it’s written on the box– WAIT SHIT IT IS”
-“I hit on a lesbian two weeks ago in the SU without knowing it and I still feel bad about it”
-“I honestly think I’d prefer living with a (Trans) person at this point because if they’re even as half as cool as you then it’s got to be better than living with two 19 year old boys who have fucking competitions of who can piss farther on the ceiling”
-“For some reason even in college guys don’t seem to get that the only reason I get so many girls’ numbers is because I treat them like I would treat anyone else”
-“No seriously they think you have to act uninterested or like a dick for some reason”
-“No I don’t know why they think hitting on a lesbian is anything but a lot of secondhand embarrassment for the rest of us”
-“My roommate came into the room looking really dejected and when I asked why he said that he spent hours talking to this girl just to find out that she had a boyfriend the whole time and didn’t say anything” (And after me asking why it mattered) “I dunno, apparently he doesn’t understand the concept of friends”
-(After me saying I don’t get heterosexuals sometimes) “Even I don’t understand straight guys little dude, and I am one”
Also: “I’m actually really glad you’re a boy because now I can do THIS” (pretends to full on body slam me into the couch and then carries me around over his shoulder in a fit of laughter)
omg this warms my heart
Holy shit this got 1K notes you’re all gonna make my brother cocky
I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.
They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.
Imagine coming to a hostile alien world and being attacked by a horde of creatures that can weigh up to 3 tons, run at 30 km/h (19 mph), and bite with a force of 8,100 newtons (1,800 lbf).
By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.
You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.
The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.
“Hippopotamus.”
This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinned
Imagine being the next crew to go down to earth and thinking “it’s fine, we got this. We have the weapons and equipment necessary to deal with bears and *shudders* hippopotamuses. We’ll be fine.”
And at first you are, you’ve learned how to dodge. You’ve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.
But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. You’re in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded “hippos” around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.
Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.
You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.
The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. It’s musky and slightly foul. It’s the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.
You sit up, but it’s too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.
It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. It’s between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.
Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadn’t noticed before.
When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.
“Badger.” they say, with a solemn nod.
One word: Moose
“Our vehicles are far superior to the local human models, in range, speed, armament, and any other metric you care to name! Nothing could possibly-”
BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!
“That’s called a moose.”
“We have determined that there is no life in the water that is larger than we are. Future assaults will spend as little time on land as possible.”
Two days later, you return missing your boat and half your team.
“So what was it this time? Multiple rows of sharp teeth? Or so big it just smashed the boat?” Your human asks. You’re starting to think that if they can survive on this planet they must be better fighters than their lack of claws or hide imply.
“One row of teeth. Black and white. Ate my buddy whole.”
“Ooh, killer whale!”
The desert recon team returns two days late, covered in dirt, and missing half their members.
Emotions are a sign of mental breakdown, and all of the survivors are terrified. You manage to get the story out of them slowly, brokenly.
They’d been traveling according to regs, close line formation, nothing on the sensors. It was just the desert, right? Small animals, nothing more than knee-high. There simply wasn’t enough water or vegetation to support larger life.
And then the medic had disappeared. They’d found signs of a brief struggle, but then ze had simply vanished.
They found zir corpse two hours later, hanging in a sage tree. Zir abdomen had been sliced open, and the corpse dangled in mute warning.
They still had seen nothing on the sensors.
They had pressed on until the third disappearance. Some of the bodies, they’d found. Some of them were complete mysteries, vanished into the desert. One of the survivors claimed to have seen a pair of glowing golden eyes.
“Sounds like a cougar,” your human says. “Or maybe a puma. Could have been a painter or a catamount, too. …or a mountain lion.”
“Have you considered that you might just be too delicious to conquer the earth?” the human asks, baring zir teeth.
You hadn’t noticed how sharp zir teeth were before, or the little stubby fangs tucked away in the corners of zir mouth. A chill runs up your back and you feel a hint of a strange terror…
wait do those tin can phones really work?? I thought this was all a myth.
I just looked up a video this is wild I’m making one tomorrow
in my high school Art 4 class while we were no doubt supposed to be getting ready for a Very important Art Show, two of my friends made one of these phones but instead of talking into it they would write messages and clip it to the string and slide it across the string to the other and when the art teacher asked why they said “we’re texting” and she could not BELIEVE it, this was the FUNNIEST thing she’d heard all year
so she got on her office phone and called the principal and said “two girls are texting in my classroom I need you to come take their phones and issue them detentions” and we all waited like assholes for him to show up and when he asked where they were she gestured at my friends “texting” on their tin can phone and my principal was already a pretty tired dude but that was the most exhausted I think he ever looked.
Steel Phoenix Studios 